Low-
by Rapoustine
Summary: In the heart of the battlefield, she is all that matters to him. Her, and his damned memories. Royai, kinda (Rated T for swearing and some blood)


**Hi, guys ! I noticed lately that the English fandom of fma is more active than the French one, so here I am, trying to translate my fics…**

 **Anyway, tell me what you think of it, and also point my spelling or grammar mistakes out if you find anything weird (which you will. Because I'm French. And the stereotype says French can't speak English.)**

 **I hope you'll like this story, I put my every work hours of the past morning into translating it (yeah my job sucks) !**

 **Disclaimer: fuck it do I look like Arakawa ?**

* * *

Time seems to considerably slow down, until it almost stops. Roy Mustang stares with shocked eyes at the oh so red sword. Blood appears so slow to spatter, staining his face, his uniform, his hair. His dreams.

He thinks he hears himself scream her rank, but all seems blurry to him and he doesn't know if his yell has come and died on his lips, or if it has rang loud and clear to everyone's ears. His throat is burning, his eyes are stinging, because he puts a great deal in keeping them so widely open, so fixated on the same point in space, unmoving. He isn't trembling. Everything feels surreal.

Roy Mustang didn't just assist to the worst scene he thought himself capable of picturing. He surely didn't just see Riza Hawkeye being skewed through and through by a sword.

A voice raises behind him. It is Havoc, yelling at him to move, to hurry, because of the time they can't afford to lose. The poor guy doesn't know. He hasn't _seen_.

"Hey, boss" He screams. "Hey, Mustang ! "

XXXXXX

" _Hey, Mustang !_ " _Breda exclaimed loudly from the poor looking couch he was so well embedded in. Roy came toward him, glad to have found him in the heavy crowd occupying the bar in this night. Unsurprisingly, in the booth his subordinate was currently sitting at, he also found Havoc and Falman. What confused him somewhat was the unexpected -though not unwelcomed- presence of his lieutenant, Riza Hawkeye. She who constantly refused to accompany them on her coworkers' famous nights out, it was kind of astounding to find her here. Roy swallowed back his desire to laugh when he saw Riza's obvious uneasiness, stuck on the bench between Falman and Havoc. She looked like she'd rather be anywhere but here._

 _They all squeezed a little more in the booth to make room for their colonel, who immediately asked for a beer to the lovely waitress taking care of their table._

 _Peacefully sipping his drink and neglecting the supposedly seductive glances Havoc was throwing at the waitress, Roy kept easily the conversation going with his subordinates, whom he thought now of as friends. He restrained himself from staring too openly at Riza, conscious discretion was more difficult to perform in such a confined place, with all his other coworkers so close to them at this table. It was hard for him, that being said, not admiring his lieutenant: rare were the times he was able to appreciate the vision of a Riza dressed in her civvies._

 _The night held nothing extraordinary, wasn't it for the unusual presence of Riza among them. Roy spent a nice time, though; this end-of-the-week night out was well deserved after all this paperwork he had had to do._

 _Riza seemed to think more and more like him through the night, smiling and sipping her own drink quietly. She honestly looked a lot more at ease than earlier. When Roy mentioned his upcoming date with a pretty red head he had met the day before, though, his lieutenant scowled._

XXXXXX

"Hawkeye…" Roy murmurs. Nobody could hear him, even less her.

Then Havoc comes closer and he finally sees her, and his eyes widen and he seems to hold back a scream. In a moment, he raises his gun to Riza's assailant and shoots. Right in the heart. The second lieutenant has learned well in the few years he has worked with Hawkeye. In the following seconds, he crouches next to her, desperately pressing his hands on her bleeding wound.

Roy is still not moving an inch. Paralyzed, from fear or incomprehension. Both soldiers are now completely unaware of the fight furiously going on around them.

When, finally, Roy gets a hold of himself and approaches them, it's to hear Havoc mumbling incomprehensible words. The lieutenant suddenly raises his head toward his superior officer and repeats, this time more loudly, panic clearly visible in his eyes, "She won't make it out, boss".

XXXXXX

" _She won't make it out" Roy heard Fuery whisper to Falman. He followed his young sergeant's look to Riza's desk, where lied a huge stack of paperwork to sign and to complete due for the evening. It was the first time he witnessed tardiness in his subordinate's work. Lingering on this thought, a wave of guilt overwhelmed him as he remembered why she_ was _actually this late. Hawkeye had helped him with his own stack the day before and she hadn't been able to do hers._ _At all._

 _Riza didn't look up from her work all day and had seemed to drown under it many times, but she didn't fail. It was with her usual and impeccable timing that Roy watched her smooth her documents pile one last time before throwing a triumphant look in the office. But all of her coworkers were already gone for long, as night was descending upon them. The colonel was still here, though, head bowed over his own work. He heard more than he saw Riza getting up discreetly, taking her pile and putting it in the completed paperwork case. He then threw inconspicuous glances at here until he saw her standing in front of his own desk, obviously waiting for him to acknowledge her presence. Holding up his head and meeting her eyes, he gratified her with a lazy smirk, happy to end this long day. He stretched and got up._

" _Colonel, if you don't mind my asking, why didn't you leave at the same time as the others ? Your work could have waited, it wasn't urgent, and you told me yourself you had a date this evening" she asked quietly. Roy just shrugged and smiled, not wanting to tell her his date was less important than staying behind with her._ _It was, after all, his fault._

XXXXXX

Havoc's statement is welcomed with the most total of silences. Roy's eyes widen even more, if that's possible. No… _No no no no no_ ! "No way…" He murmurs, over and over.

The colonel falls on his knees across from Havoc. He puts a trembling hand on Riza's still shoulder and shakes it, gently at first, and then strongly.

"Hey… Hey, Hawkeye… _Hawkeye_ !" He cries her name. Once. Twice. Ten times.

Havoc tries to stop him, only confirming him what seems so impossible to Roy, letting it befall hardly on him –just like a punch in the guts, but a thousand times worst. That Riza Hawkeye, who had seemed absolutely invincible all these years, will not wake up. Will never wake up.

No. Havoc is lying. She's fine… She is _fine_ !

"Hawkeye…" He whispers one more time. "Open your eyes, I'm begging you"

XXXXXX

" _Open your eyes" Roy said to Riza, a broad and uncontrollable smile showing on his face._

" _Mr. Mustang…" she whispered in her breath. She really did look surprised, but he saw how she was equally delighted. The young girl had apparently not thought her father's student would've remembered her birthday. He had decorated the entire living room while she was in class. Then he had come and picked her up at school, to walk back with her to the Hawkeye estate._

 _Roy had even baked a cake._

" _Happy birthday_ " _he simply said, shoving casually his hand in his pockets. Riza didn't answer but he understood. The young girl's amber eyes, now kind of wet, and the light smile that smoothed her traits so well couldn't mislead him. Nobody had ever gone this far for her._

" _I asked Sensei if he would come and celebrate with us, but…" "It's alright", she interrupted him._ _"It's perfect this way"._

 _Roy watched her all night long._ _The pain which seemed to usually haunt the young girl looked alleviated, and he heard her laugh freely for the first time that night._

XXXXXX

But Roy's supplication is only welcomed by closed eyelids. He grabs her more firmly, both of her shoulders this time. And he screams. He wants to insult her but all he can do is scream. He shakes her, begs her to wake up and answer him. But silence soon is the only real thing he hears and understands. Even Havoc seems to have become a blur in the chaos.

With the back of his hand, Roy furiously wipes a lone tear that has found its way out of his left eye. He won't cry. She isn't dead. There is no fucking reason to cry.

But tears still come out freely, when she still hasn't opened her eyes though his voice breaks under the strain.

"Riza…"

XXXXXX

" _Riza…" Roy said in a low voice. The bartender shrugged and grabbed the phone, dialing the patron's lieutenant's number. On the end of the line, Hawkeye didn't even remotely seem surprised. Roy heard vaguely the bartender describe his condition on the phone. When, ten minutes later, Riza entered the bar and took him firmly by the elbow, the only thing he wanted was that his drunken state faded away. But it was with an incoherent speech and hesitant footsteps that he welcomed her "in his humble kingdom". He knew she knew the place; this was far from being the first time she received a phone call asking her to come and pick him up. He couldn't stop himself from clowning, though, his worlds and movements dictated by the many glasses he had downed earlier._

 _When they got out on the street, Roy naturally directed himself toward the first parked car he saw. Riza stopped him, placing a gentle hand on his forearm._

" _I'm parked down the street, colonel" she explained with a soft voice. Roy stopped twiddling the car's handle and turned to his lieutenant. Something hit him hard then, and he couldn't resist the urge to raise his hand to touch her blond hair. It was longer than he had ever seen it before. "Your hair…" He began, in a grunt, "When did it get this long ?"_

 _She sighed and lightly tapped his hand away._

 _Roy then put his hand on her waist. It felt weirdly natural, as if he always had done this kind of gesture toward her. This time, frozen, she didn't push his hand away. Completely slurred in his drunken state, he got closer to her until they were only inches apart. When he raised his other hand to her face, cupping her cheek, and he whispered her name -calling her that for the first time in a decade-, Riza gasped before saying under her breath "It's late, colonel. We should head home."_

 _He stared at her, getting desperate. In a swift movement, he got even closer, enough to graze her lips with his. Snaking one arm around her waist, the other coming to her nape, he let her no choice but to be kissed. Thankfully, after painfully long seconds, she kissed him back fiercely. Every last drop of alcohol seemed to have escaped his body now that he was finally kissing her. When they stopped, gasping for air, they locked eyes. Roy was as insanely happy as he was –still- drunk. The latter was obviously showing, and with hurt in her eyes, Riza sighed, stepping back a little. The colonel watched her as she changed her attitude to a dim one, obvious pain showing in her voice, "You're drunk. Let's go."_

 _Roy tried to hold her back as she retreated from his arms and started walking toward her car, he wanted to explain to her, tell her it wasn't just alcohol that had lead him to kiss her. He wanted to apologize and kiss her again and swoop her in his arms and not be this damn drunk anymore and not touch a single glass of booze in his life if that was what she wanted. Instead, he just followed her to her car, let her bring him back to his apartment, saying nothing._

 _The morning after, he let her believe he had forgotten all about the incident._

XXXXXX

Dead

Dead

Fucking _dead_

And she will never come back.

Roy has been cradling her in his arms for a while, now, rocking back and forth slowly. He has stopped trying to wake her up. He has stopped hoping she would just open her eyes and yell at him for crying on a battlefield. He doesn't care where Havoc has gone to, doesn't care if the battle is still going on elsewhere. He is completely alone.

His legs are sore from being bent under him for too long, his lungs hurt because of his too many sobs. He can't smell anything else but her blood on her hair.

He can't think straight.

And he doesn't care.


End file.
